Robert momentarily turned away from the phone to talk to someone. How rude.
“Am I interrupting you, Robert?”
“Curt’s here. He has some concerns about the Life Plan deal.”
“Concerns that are unqualified. I’ve got this.” Felix dug his fingernails into his left palm. “I have to hang up now and go buy industrial-strength cleaning supplies.”
Robert gave a snide laugh. “You’re cleaning your own house, too?”
“Squirrels ate through my cedar siding. I have to de-squirrel the inside of the house and squirrel-proof the outside.”
“For Chrissake, Felix—”
“I’ll see you on Tuesday morning. Nine o’clock sharp.”
Robert, the tosser, hung up. What had happened to common courtesy? Did no one say please, thank you, and good-bye anymore?
A squirrel rushed out from the undergrowth, stopped with its front paw raised, and looked at the house.
“Piss off,” Felix said. “Otherwise, my next call is to Eudora.”
The squirrel waved its tail frantically and then shot back into the forest.
Could this whole mess get any worse? If he lost his job, they’d lose their health insurance. God only knew what their medical bills would amount to when all this was done. And if he quit the partnership, he’d have to start over. At fifty. And do what? Become a corporate financial consultant—if he could brush off the stigma of failure? He would have nothing left but his reputation, which Robert was more than capable of shredding out of spite. Felix sighed. Everything he’d worked for since coming to North Carolina could flush down the lavatory if he crossed Robert.
The glass doors slid open and Harry appeared, carrying Felix’s Merton College mug. “Thought you might need a refill.”
“Thank you.”
“You okay, Dad?” Harry plopped down in a squirrel-deformed chair. He didn’t even bother to check.
“It appears my partner has become, to use your Uncle Tom’s favorite word, a tosspot.” Felix cradled his mug. “Although that is privileged information not to be shared.”
“No offense, Dad, but Robert’s always been a jerk. I mean, c’mon, he called on Christmas Day.”
“He did?”
“You don’t remember Mom going nuts?”
Felix nodded slowly. Work had never come with barriers. It had always spilled over into all aspects of their lives.
Harry cracked his knuckles; Felix ignored it. He just didn’t have the energy.
“You’re not going to lose your job, are you?” Harry grimaced and blinked.
“Robert stole me from Morgan Stanley because I’m an expert in my field. He needs me.” Not strictly an answer, but close enough.
“That’s a relief. I’ve never really understood what you and Robert do, Dad.”
“We’re investment bankers. We help corporations get financing by issuing stocks and bonds and arranging loans. Robert specializes in stocks and loans; I handle the bonds. Up until now, it’s been a match made in heaven.” Felix paused. “If you’re worrying about the college fund, you needn’t. It’s safe, and so are your school fees. In fact, your school fees are paid through the end of senior year.”
Harry sat up, rigid, and began kicking the legs of the table. Again and again.
“Harry, please. Stop that.” Felix scraped the small metal table along the concrete, out of Harry’s reach.
“I don’t care about the college fund, Dad.”
“You should.”
“I was thinking about Mom’s health insurance.”
“Harry, I’m not going to lose my job.” He couldn’t afford to—on any level. “I won’t allow that to happen, do you understand?”
Harry nodded. “So why did you become a corporate banker?”
“My grandfather was one. I admired him, and I knew it would be a good career for a provider. It’s certainly helped us cover your exorbitant medical expenses.”